Once the heart learns
how to survive pain,
attachment stops feeling lethal—
it just aches quietly.
People don't fall in love suddenly.
They slip into it,
through habits,
through presence,
through staying.
And when someone leaves midway,
the pain doesn't ask for permission.
I was with you,
without expectations,
without demands.
But then—
a sudden flood of messages,
being visible online,
questions that carried jealousy
disguised as concern.
And I had already told you—
I don't want this.
I don't want confusion,
I don't want half-promises.
If it happened again,
everything would end in an instant.
So why did you come back?
What were you hoping to gain
from reopening wounds
and calling it drama?
My biggest regret
is not losing you—
it's meeting you.
If I hadn't known you,
my life wouldn't feel this scattered.
My peace wouldn't feel broken.
My mind wouldn't carry
this constant weight.
Some meetings don't teach love—
they teach survival.If I had never crossed paths with you,
my life would not feel this undone.
Meeting you gave me nothing
but quiet damage—
just one or two months
were enough
to shake my happiness
and bruise my sense of self.
My only mistake
was placing your happiness
above my own.
Yes—
that part was mine.
I was naïve.
Now I question everything:
your care,
your concern,
your attachment,
your jealousy.
Was any of it real?
And if it was—
then you deserve applause.
You played the part beautifully.
A convincing performance.
Because now I see it clearly—
you liked me,
but you never respected me.
You hurt my self-worth,
you cracked my ego,
and left me doubting myself.
Once, I laughed freely
with my friends.
I lived without explaining myself.
A friend speaks when it matters—
but you stayed silent
exactly when I needed a voice.
Some people don't break hearts—
they quietly erase
the version of you
that once felt lighYou hurt me—
not loudly,
but deeply.
That day,
your words were sharp,
and you never stopped
to ask how much they cut.
I trusted you
as my closest friend,
and you left me standing alone
in the middle of my worst moment.
You chose distance.
Different people.
Different conversations.
A room full of faces—
yet somehow,
I was invisible.
What hurt the most
wasn't the crowd,
but the absence of you.
You didn't pull me aside.
You didn't ask if I was okay.
You knew I was crying—
and still, you stayed silent.
This wasn't a one-time wound.
It kept repeating.
When I asked for notes,
you turned it into a scene—
someone else's bag,
someone else's proof,
as if I had lost
something that was never mine to forget.
It felt like a joke—
one where I was meant
to feel small.
And that day,
a quiet part of me realized:
this wasn't friendship.
This was disregard.
Some hurts don't scream—
they sit quietly,
teaching you
who not to trust again.My heart shattered quietly,
piece by piece.
Everyone speaks their own truth—
but no one pauses
to hear another's.
I carried a thousand unspoken thoughts,
and you never tried
to understand a single one.
Instead, you chose clever words
over honest care.
You weren't like this before.
Not back in school.
You once told me to speak,
to participate,
to take space—
and suddenly,
everything I said became wrong.
Suddenly, I was told
to take my words elsewhere.
It hurt.
You weren't cruel—
but you weren't the same either.
You changed.
And that change bruised me.
Even now,
I don't know who you truly are—
someone who hurt me deeply,
yet spoke with such sweetness.
You're happy now,
living your college life.
Why would it matter to you
whether I exist or not?
You weren't always like this—
that's what hurts the most.
I don't know
when everything shifted,
when it all ended—
maybe somewhere
between the last day of school
and the first day of college.
Some people enter your life
only to teach you
a quiet lesson.
May God never send
such lessons
wrapped as people again.